In Ho Chi Ming City, you can see elderly American tourists everywhere. Men were definitely in Vietnam War; while women, of course, are the wives of these veteran husbands'. You either hear a group of old comrades talking about how brave they were in the battles or see the wives not be able to catch up the stories so they can only say something like “Oh, really?, “Oh, dear.”, or “Oh, mine.” to show their sympathy.
And I am sitting in the patio of a café, watching those old Vietnam War veterans holding a map and trying to find what they can still recognize. I wonder why they want to come back to this once-like-hell place and look back to that not-so-pleasant memory. I try hard to imagine how they feel. But to be honest, I cannot. For I have never been through anything close to their scars from the war. How can I say I would know what that would be like?
What makes them want to return the place where they lost their brothers? What makes them want to revisit the country that almost made them unable to go home? I thought most people do not want to go back to those heartbreaking places. However, in Ho Chi Ming City, my assumption is thoroughly overturned.
Therefore, I bring a lot of questions with me and arrive at a seaside town approximately 8 hours from Saigon. This night, I come to a pub to dine. Young travelers are chatting about other famous tourist cites and having a good time. An American veteran comes over, trying to join us.
“Where are you guys from?”, he asks.
“I am from Taiwan. He is from Canada. And he is from France.”, I reply.
We know the veteran just wants to have someone to talk to. This town is so far away from Saigon, where most Vietnam War veterans stay. It looks like this man is left behind there. OK. He can join us. But if he carries on talking about Vietnam War, according to our ages and nationalities, none of us have memories in common with him.
He takes out his wallet and asks, “Want to see the picture of my son and daughter?” Sure. We stick out our heads. Veteran says that his son now is working at a big company as an engineer and his daughter is going to graduate this year, but she has already found a job. He sounds very proud of them. I watch the handsome son and the beautiful daughter in the photo and say, “I am sorry. But they don't look Caucasian.” I am just being polite. The son and daughter look completely Asian.
Veteran does not mind at all. It does not lessen his affection toward his children. He says that he adopted them. The war was over and he went back to his own country. He started a job and worked at a company. He and his wife did not have their own children. So they decided to adopt children. Because he has been to Vietnam, they chose to adopt Vietnamese orphans. Now the kids are both gown-up. They don't need him any more. So he has collected his pension and comes back here, choosing to spend the rest of his life here in this small town.
The veteran has bought huge oyster fields here and prepared for his long stay. Last week he posted wants ads, saying that he needs more hands to help out his field work. There are quite a lot of responses, mostly from young people. Out of his surprise, the other day a man of his age came to the interview.
The Vietnamese old man got all excited when seeing the interviewer being of his age and American. He started to bring up the same old time they share, in order to make some kind of connection. (I guess.)
(To be honest, if this Mr. was South Vietnamese, the ally of the United States, then I can understand. But it turns out that this guy was from North Vietnamese army. Then I have a hard time understanding his logic.)
Anyways, beyond our comprehension, the Vietnamese old man now got fired up, starting to brag about how valiant he was during the Vietnam War. For instance, one day he and his fellow were hiding in the thick forest, armed with a ground-to-air missile. With a bad luck, an American detective plane flew by in the air. They aimed and shot. And the plane was hit and had to perform an emergency landing. Seeing this happen, he and his companion traced the smoke of the plane and came to the landing area to search for survivors. If there was any, then their job was to make sure no one was alive.
When arriving at the scene, they saw that the two men on the plane were only seriously injured for the thick trees and their strong branches supported the plane. Two enemies got out of the plane and climbed down from the tree, one with a big cut on the forehead so the blood is pouring down on his face, and the other with a dislocated shoulder.
The Communist soldiers were hiding themselves in a not-too-far bush. Sharing only a disadvantaged pistol, they decided to wait for the right moment. With a much more advanced machine gun, their counterpart could easily defeat them.
So the stalk began. Along the path then arriving at a cave, the Americans stopped for a rest, seeming to discuss which way to take. The Communist soldiers kept a distance from being discovered. On the other hand, they were also so nervous that they were sweating all the time. American pilots were walking toward the U.S. military bases, which made the stalk getting more dangerous. The North Vietnamese whispered to discuss if they should just stop there. At this point they lost the trace of their enemies. For a moment they thought they'd better give up, in the meanwhile they heard the Americans' voices again, so they went on following. Finally the pilots came to a clear stream. Here came the opportunity!!! The one with a bleeding forehead put down his weapon and kneeled down to wash his face. What a great chance!!! The Vietnamese rose his hand gun, praying he could just kill the pilot with one clean shot. For some reason, his counterpart alertly picked up the gun and turned around, but could only stare at the deserted forest, confusedly.
At the same time, the Vietnamese soldiers swiftly withdrew back to the dark, shivering. It was so close. He almost pulled the trigger! The Americans crossed the river. And the other side of it was their military base. So the Communists could only back off. Until then, the spectacular long afternoon officially ended.
The American pilot, now the owner of the oyster fields, listening to this interviewee's old war story, got goose bumps all over. In front of him was the guy who shot down his plane 40 years ago. The Vietnamese was telling one side of the story; while he owns the other side. Not until 40 years later did he realize how close he was the moment he put down his weapon and washed his face by the river.
“Wow, this is the coolest story I have ever heard. Did you tell him? Did you tell him that you were the pilot?” I ask, excitedly.
No. I didn’t.
Why?
“I don't know. I was so shocked. I was so speechless.”, he says.
And I am sitting in the patio of a café, watching those old Vietnam War veterans holding a map and trying to find what they can still recognize. I wonder why they want to come back to this once-like-hell place and look back to that not-so-pleasant memory. I try hard to imagine how they feel. But to be honest, I cannot. For I have never been through anything close to their scars from the war. How can I say I would know what that would be like?
What makes them want to return the place where they lost their brothers? What makes them want to revisit the country that almost made them unable to go home? I thought most people do not want to go back to those heartbreaking places. However, in Ho Chi Ming City, my assumption is thoroughly overturned.
Therefore, I bring a lot of questions with me and arrive at a seaside town approximately 8 hours from Saigon. This night, I come to a pub to dine. Young travelers are chatting about other famous tourist cites and having a good time. An American veteran comes over, trying to join us.
“Where are you guys from?”, he asks.
“I am from Taiwan. He is from Canada. And he is from France.”, I reply.
We know the veteran just wants to have someone to talk to. This town is so far away from Saigon, where most Vietnam War veterans stay. It looks like this man is left behind there. OK. He can join us. But if he carries on talking about Vietnam War, according to our ages and nationalities, none of us have memories in common with him.
He takes out his wallet and asks, “Want to see the picture of my son and daughter?” Sure. We stick out our heads. Veteran says that his son now is working at a big company as an engineer and his daughter is going to graduate this year, but she has already found a job. He sounds very proud of them. I watch the handsome son and the beautiful daughter in the photo and say, “I am sorry. But they don't look Caucasian.” I am just being polite. The son and daughter look completely Asian.
Veteran does not mind at all. It does not lessen his affection toward his children. He says that he adopted them. The war was over and he went back to his own country. He started a job and worked at a company. He and his wife did not have their own children. So they decided to adopt children. Because he has been to Vietnam, they chose to adopt Vietnamese orphans. Now the kids are both gown-up. They don't need him any more. So he has collected his pension and comes back here, choosing to spend the rest of his life here in this small town.
The veteran has bought huge oyster fields here and prepared for his long stay. Last week he posted wants ads, saying that he needs more hands to help out his field work. There are quite a lot of responses, mostly from young people. Out of his surprise, the other day a man of his age came to the interview.
The Vietnamese old man got all excited when seeing the interviewer being of his age and American. He started to bring up the same old time they share, in order to make some kind of connection. (I guess.)
(To be honest, if this Mr. was South Vietnamese, the ally of the United States, then I can understand. But it turns out that this guy was from North Vietnamese army. Then I have a hard time understanding his logic.)
Anyways, beyond our comprehension, the Vietnamese old man now got fired up, starting to brag about how valiant he was during the Vietnam War. For instance, one day he and his fellow were hiding in the thick forest, armed with a ground-to-air missile. With a bad luck, an American detective plane flew by in the air. They aimed and shot. And the plane was hit and had to perform an emergency landing. Seeing this happen, he and his companion traced the smoke of the plane and came to the landing area to search for survivors. If there was any, then their job was to make sure no one was alive.
When arriving at the scene, they saw that the two men on the plane were only seriously injured for the thick trees and their strong branches supported the plane. Two enemies got out of the plane and climbed down from the tree, one with a big cut on the forehead so the blood is pouring down on his face, and the other with a dislocated shoulder.
The Communist soldiers were hiding themselves in a not-too-far bush. Sharing only a disadvantaged pistol, they decided to wait for the right moment. With a much more advanced machine gun, their counterpart could easily defeat them.
So the stalk began. Along the path then arriving at a cave, the Americans stopped for a rest, seeming to discuss which way to take. The Communist soldiers kept a distance from being discovered. On the other hand, they were also so nervous that they were sweating all the time. American pilots were walking toward the U.S. military bases, which made the stalk getting more dangerous. The North Vietnamese whispered to discuss if they should just stop there. At this point they lost the trace of their enemies. For a moment they thought they'd better give up, in the meanwhile they heard the Americans' voices again, so they went on following. Finally the pilots came to a clear stream. Here came the opportunity!!! The one with a bleeding forehead put down his weapon and kneeled down to wash his face. What a great chance!!! The Vietnamese rose his hand gun, praying he could just kill the pilot with one clean shot. For some reason, his counterpart alertly picked up the gun and turned around, but could only stare at the deserted forest, confusedly.
At the same time, the Vietnamese soldiers swiftly withdrew back to the dark, shivering. It was so close. He almost pulled the trigger! The Americans crossed the river. And the other side of it was their military base. So the Communists could only back off. Until then, the spectacular long afternoon officially ended.
The American pilot, now the owner of the oyster fields, listening to this interviewee's old war story, got goose bumps all over. In front of him was the guy who shot down his plane 40 years ago. The Vietnamese was telling one side of the story; while he owns the other side. Not until 40 years later did he realize how close he was the moment he put down his weapon and washed his face by the river.
“Wow, this is the coolest story I have ever heard. Did you tell him? Did you tell him that you were the pilot?” I ask, excitedly.
No. I didn’t.
Why?
“I don't know. I was so shocked. I was so speechless.”, he says.
Then, will you hire him?
Oh yes. I will. I will hire him. Maybe someday in my oyster fields, when the timing is right, I will tell him, in the sunset.
I look at him. My questions are getting deeper. What kind of fates would make you and your enemy of 40 years ago meet again in this once-battle but now-fertile land, but this time you are working together as employer and employee? Wars are horrible. They can make people hate each other and have to kill each other. But when the background changes, they can be sitting down and having a good time together.
Seeing the confusion in the man's eyes, I say “thank you” to him. He asks me why. And I tell him. It takes alsmot his whole lifetime to achieve such an amazing story, and I am lucky enough to hear his splendid legend in a foreign country, at such a windy night.
